


When a Boy Misses His Mother

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-24
Updated: 2007-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his resurrection, Joey had to learn who he had lost, and deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When a Boy Misses His Mother

He had not wanted to impose on Vic, by borrowing a jet, or on Raven, by asking for a teleport.

He liked the new Wondergirl so far, but she was not someone he was yet comfortable with. Flying commercial was definitely not something he could face, being cramped into a small space trans-continental and oceanic.

He did have to admit it had been difficult to get in touch with his only other real option. A difficulty he breached by going to Gateway City and patiently waiting for her, a full week before he needed her.

Donna Troy had been both overjoyed and overwhelmed by him being there, and a very long day was spent together, with talking and assisting her in her duties. She agreed when and where to pick him up so he could do what he felt he needed to.

It seemed more than fitting to him that it was a cold, drizzling, morose day in Germany when she brought him to the cemetery. He knew just where to go, where Grant was buried. His supposition that his father had been true to form held up as he found an elegant black marble memorial stone etched with the name of the one person he most missed.

{"Momma."} His hand fluttered through that sign, before he sank to his knees on the cold, wet ground, hands and forehead coming to rest on the lifeless stone. He had so much he wanted to say, so many apologies for failing them all, for dying, for not being there for her…and none of it came to his hands. All he could do was weep, for the proud woman he had been proud to have as his mother, for the shattered reflections left in his own life, and most of all, for what might have been, had any of them been just a little stronger.

From a distant point, obscured by rain and the dark day, a single eye watched.


End file.
